


We could do better (but it's hard for us to tell)

by starkjam



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Abraham Ford Lives, Fix-It of Sorts, Glenn Rhee Lives, He's not good but he's not terrible either, Homophobia, M/M, Misgendering, Negan Being Negan (Walking Dead), Negan's not /that/ bad, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reader-Insert, Sweet Negan (Walking Dead), Trans Male Character, Transphobia, eventually, reader is trans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22566547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkjam/pseuds/starkjam
Summary: In which a plan to sabotage Negan and the Saviors ends up with you as their newest addition.
Relationships: Negan (Walking Dead)/Original Character(s), Negan (Walking Dead)/Original Male Character(s), Negan (Walking Dead)/You
Comments: 3
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for checking out my story!! 
> 
> The title is inspired by the song Casual by Thomston. The story itself isn't inspired by the song, but I really liked this line and thought it fit.
> 
> Just a few important things to know before reading: 
> 
> 1\. I'm messing with the timeline a little bit. Instead of ~1.5 years passing between the beginning and Rick's group taking over Alexandria, about 5 years have passed. Negan is mid 30s, like Jesus, Carl is 17, Judith is 3.5 ish, and reader is early to mid 20s.
> 
> 2\. Negan didn't kill Glenn and Abraham. Instead, he shot them both, and they lived. He has still been threatening and stealing from the communities, though, so he's not a very good guy.
> 
> 3\. There's only a handful of stories with a ftm character, whether OC or not, so I've tried to keep the reader as relatable as possible to another trans masc folk who read. However, his experiences/things he may mention throughout the story are primarily based off of the experiences of myself and my friends. Reader will be referred to as he/him and occasionally as they/them.
> 
> 4\. This fic won't follow the show timeline too closely, but there will be spoilers for s7. I'm going to change some stuff up, but I won't share that here. Hopefully this isn't too ooc and, if it is, i'm sorry. 
> 
> Okay, that's a lot of notes. This kicks off at the beginning of s7ep7. Enjoy!

As soon as the Saviors left the back of the truck, you, Jesus, and Carl climbed out of your hiding spots. The interior of the truck was lined with boxes and crates of supplies. Food that could feed a community for weeks, medicine that could save people from dying of the common cold, stupid things no one needed anymore like _maple syrup_. The Saviors stole it all from Hilltop. Jesus shook his head at the sight. 

“Cut the bottoms of the boxes,” Jesus instructed with a whisper. “And pop a corner off the crates. Just one corner,” He stressed. "Don't make it too obvious." You nodded your head, pulling your utility knife from your pocket and flipping the blade out. 

The three of you worked in silence, cutting cardboard and prying apart wooden crates. There wasn’t much that could be done about the baskets of vegetables, save for dumping them off the back of the vehicle just so the Saviors couldn’t have them. You worked in the garden sometimes, and you knew just how much time and work went into tending to the crops. That one basket of potatoes took almost 4 months to grow. And every week, Negan sent his asshole Saviors to steal them. 

You kicked the baskets over, onions and potatoes rolling across the floor and into the road. All that work, stolen right out of the hands of people you cared about. Neither Jesus nor Carl said anything. 

After a few minutes, Jesus grabbed a bottle of the maple syrup, pouring the contents out from the edge of the truck. You and Carl watched, visibly confused. 

“Making a trail,” He explained. “I think we’re close.” Close to the Sanctuary, that is. 

The plan Jesus proposed to the two of you was that when the Saviors come to Hilltop for their weekly resource steal, you three would hide in the back of the truck and destroy the supplies. If Hilltop can’t have it, no one can. Of course, the preferable outcome would be returning the food and medicine back to the community, because God knows they needed it more than anyone else, but it would be impossible if you wanted to remain undetected. Wrecking the boxes and crates and dipping before the truck actually reaches the Sanctuary was the best bet. Hopefully, Negan would blame whichever unlucky Saviors were the ones to drop the tampered supplies instead of suspecting foul play. It was a long shot, but justice needed to be served.

“We should bail out,” Jesus decided after taking a peek out of the truck. “And follow the rest of the way. See what we can see.” No one knew where the Sanctuary was actually located and most of the area this far away from the other communities was a mystery. No one made it this far out and made it back unscathed.

“Uh, how?” Carl asked after the truck took a particularly sharp curve. 

“It isn’t the fall that gets us, it’s trying to fight it.” Still holding the flaps open, Jesus glanced back at the two of you. “Run with it or roll with it. The truck’s going slow enough.” He turned around again. “We’ll be in the blind spot, then we can race behind one of the other cars.” 

You took a step forward, ready to do as he said and get the hell out of the truck, but a little caught off guard by his words. _Jump from a moving vehicle?_ You figured you’d make a break for it once the truck stopped or made it to the Sanctuary gates. That alone was a dangerous idea, so, if this was the better option, you’d do it without a second thought. 

“What if I screw up and we get caught?” Carl asked, a hint of panic in his voice. That really caught you off guard. Carl was afraid? The boy who went out looking for walkers to kill and threatened Saviors any chance he got was afraid to jump from a moving truck? It didn't make sense. 

“It’ll be fine, we just gotta go now.” The response had a hint of urgency and Jesus gripped the exterior side of the truck, ready to jump at any second. 

“Okay, show us first.” You were still watching Carl as he spoke, his eyes flickering to you and immediately away, refusing to maintain eye contact. This was wrong. Jesus nodded and before you could say a word otherwise, he jumped. Like he said, he rolled as he fell and immediately dove behind another car for cover. You pushed apart the flaps to check on him and he gave you a thumbs up. He was safe. But the same couldn’t be said about you and Carl. 

“What are you doing?” You asked him, turning to look back inside the truck and putting your full attention on him. He still refused to look at you. 

“You go next, Y/N.” Carl mumbled. You shook your head, leaning sideways against a crate, your eyebrows furrowed. “Go!” He urged. 

“You’re going to do something stupid,” You accused. Maybe you’re just as dumb as he is. “And I’m not letting you do it alone.”

“This is my fight.” He snapped, his sharp tone almost taking you aback. “ _Mine_. Jump.” He demanded. You rolled your eyes in response. 

“Cool it with the teen angst, alright? This isn’t a fight. I’ll admit, the plan to get on this truck to begin with was dumb and obviously not very well thought out, but we need to bail. Now. Before it's too late.” You whispered harshly. “What are you going to do?”

Carl broke eye contact, his arms crossed. “If no one else is going to do anything about Negan, I will.” 

“We are doing things! _Everyone_ is doing something! We’re trying to figure out how to stop them from taking our supplies without getting innocent people hurt. Pissing Negan and the Saviors off isn’t going to help anyone.”

“You don’t-” His words were cut off as you felt the truck slow.

You could hear the groans of walkers and, through the gaps between the flaps, you could just make out some that were chained to fences and stuck on spikes. Back at Alexandria, people took shifts being an armed guard for the gate. These walkers were the Sanctuary’s guards. 

The brakes squealed and Carl turned away, moving toward the back of the truck and grabbing a rifle from a large crate. He briefly locked eyes with you as he checked the magazine, putting his foot down and inviting you to do the same, and then ducked back into his hiding spot from earlier. You sighed and followed suit, picking your own weapon and crouching behind a stack of boxes. Even though you didn’t know exactly what Carl was planning to do, the gun spoke clearly enough. You knew you couldn’t let Carl go through with whatever he had decided to do alone, even if you didn't fully agree with it. 

The truck came to a complete stop and you heard a voice from outside. 

“ _Okay, boys, let’s get this haul unloaded and inside..._ ” Your eyes widened as you saw Carl grip his gun tighter.

He was going to try and kill Negan. 

“Carl, don’t.” You whispered, your eyes boring into the side of his face, willing him to read your mind and realize what a horrible decision he was about to make. He ignored you and steadied the gun against his shoulder. 

More light flooded into the back of the truck as a savior tied back the flaps to begin unloading. Before you could even take another breath, Carl jumped up, taking down the Savior that had climbed inside.

“Stay back!” He commanded, jumping out the truck. “I only want Negan. He hurt my friends,” Carl added. “No one else needs to die.” 

“ _Fuck_!” You bit out, the sound drowned out by the scuffling going on outside. Obviously, Carl had already thought this through. You didn’t have enough time to think of another way out of the situation or imagine the repercussions of your next action.

Jumping out from behind the crates, you stood your ground behind Carl, your sight shifting between the Saviors below you. 

Your own life be damned, you couldn’t let Carl die like this. The solution to the situation with the Saviors was more complicated than just killing Negan, but Carl was blinded by his own anger and couldn't be stopped. Negan had shot Abraham and Glenn, took Daryl prisoner, and beat Rick down into a weak being. The only thing Carl had on his mind was making the enemy pay. 

But no matter your feelings toward Negan and the Saviors, you had to find a way to get both you and Carl out of the Sanctuary, preferably alive. And the odds were getting slimmer by the second. More likely than not, the Saviors surrounding you had weapons of their own. You were very outnumbered, and, now that Carl had fired upon them, they would be out for blood. It was basically suicide, but you had no idea what else to do. 

A whistle sounded from beside the truck and your heart leaped into your throat. _Negan_. Fuck.

“Damn… You two are _adorable_ ,” He chuckled, strolling behind the other Saviors. He grabbed onto a man, using him as a human shield. “Did you pick those guns because they look cool? You totally did, right?” He continued laughing.

“Don’t do anything stupid.” You muttered to Carl, side stepping so you were a centimeter closer to him. He cut his eye at you before focusing back in on Negan, but the bearded man had already seen the exchange. He smirked.

“Kid,” Negan began, this time only speaking to Carl. “I ain’t gonna lie. You scare the _shit_ out of me.” His eyes flicker back over to you. “I’m still figuring _you_ out, though. You don’t seem the reckless and violent type.” 

“You don’t know shit.” You spat back.

As soon as the words left your mouth, two saviors charged at the truck, you gunning down one and Carl the other. It had been a long time since you last killed someone, but you didn't let the feeling dig at you. Before you could even release your finger from the trigger, another savior tackled you from the side, his long hair whipping you in the face as he disarmed you and shoved your face into the dirt. 

You struggled as he held your arms down against your back, something cold and hard pressing into your spine. The gun. Flipping your head over, you saw that Carl’s in the same position but reversed, the Savior, who you knew as Dwight, shoving the rifle into his abdomen. 

“No!” You yelled, trying to use your knees to dislodge the Savior pinning you down. 

“Alright. Dwight, Jared… Back off.” Negan said, no longer hiding behind his meat shield. His voice was firm, but for some reason, he didn’t sound angry. You’d shot one Savior and Carl had shot more, Negan should be pissed.

The pressure against your back released and Dwight climbed off of Carl. You immediately turned back over, locking eyes on the younger boy beside you to make sure he was okay.

“Hey, now,” Negan sang. “Is that any way to treat our new guests?” 

You looked up just in time to see Negan extending a gloved hand each to the two of you. You snuck another peak at Carl. He pushed himself off his back with a groan, a frustrated expression on his face. Obviously, he hadn't planned for this to happen.

"Come on, kids. I'll show you around." Negan wiggled his leather fingers, but instead of taking his hand, you glared at him, refusing to show any fear. He scoffed, “Really? You’re _really_ not going to take my hand? Neither of you? You’re lucky you even still have hands!” 

You shook your head. “ _Right_.” You grumbled, planting your hands and shoving yourself off the ground. 

“Same as your boy, Daryl, over here, now that I think about it.” At the sound of Daryl’s name, your head snapped up and you followed Negan’s gaze to the gated area filled with walkers that you had seen driving in the Sanctuary. There Daryl was standing, _alive_ , watching you through the rungs of the fence. He was the last person you expected to see in this Hellhole and he looked horrible, his face caked in dirt and grease. You could feel your throat begin to close in on itself. 

A few years ago, after you lost your last group, Daryl found you alone in the woods. Since your last camp had been overrun by a herd and it took everything for you just to survive, you had no belongings to your name. You were a couple days shy of starving to death and, honestly, you were ready for it. But then some man with a crossbow stumbled upon you passed out in a tree and, well, by nightfall you were in the West Georgia Correctional Facility. Even Rick could attest to the fact that Daryl bringing another survivor back to the prison was weird. He wasn’t the type to go out of his way to help people, especially strangers, but he did. 

You took a few steps around Negan and toward the fence, still in disbelief, until two people stuck their arms out to block you. Ever since the Saviors took Daryl, no one saw him or heard so much as a word from him. Negan promised he was still alive, but how good was Negan’s word, anyway? He stole from innocent people without a hint of remorse. You couldn’t trust him as far as you could spit. You wanted to give Daryl a smile, let him know you would both be okay, but you didn’t have it in you. 

“Well, that just about warmed my cold heart.” Negan mocked. You looked back at him, disdain fully coursing through your veins. He looked back down at Carl, the younger finally taking his hand and allowing himself to be helped up. Negan locked eyes with you and he said, “I see one of you is smart. Now, both of you, come with me.” 

You bent down to grab Carl’s hat, ignoring whatever else Negan was saying, and handed it to him, making sure you made eye contact before you let go. He sent you a look, both fearful and apologetic, before fixing that cap back on his head. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The adventures of Carl and Y/N at the Sanctuary continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick little notes I wanted to throw in here: 
> 
> 1\. Thank you SO much to everyone who has read and left kudos! When I posted this, I literally expected a couple people to read it, but there are over 50 reads already! Thank you all!
> 
> 2\. I touched on this in the first chapter's notes, but I wanted to say it again: Although this is a reader-insert, the reader will share experiences/thoughts that may not be the same as the ACTUAL readers. I really wanted to include some stuff about transitioning in this story as the reader is trans, so I I hope this doesn't upset anyone.
> 
> 3\. I hope these first few chapters aren't boring. I've used s7ep7 as a template, I guess, for the beginning of this story and the introduction to the reader and Negan. Everything will pick up soon once I'm finished with that (hopefully in the next update). 
> 
> warnings: the usual violence, talk of violence. This is a TWD story, so expect that often.

Negan swung open the entrance to the Sanctuary, holding the door open for you and Carl to follow in behind him. “Check this out.” He whispered into your ear. Without saying another word, he walked across the platform and stopped at the handrail. Every person on the floor below you kneeled before him, giving him their undivided attention, and the sight made your stomach squirm. 

“The Saviors have gone out into the world and fought the dead and come back with some _really_ good stuff. Some of that stuff can be yours if you work hard,” He turned to make eye contact with Carl and then you. “and play by the rules.” 

You clenched your jaw.

“Today, everyone gets fresh vegetables for dinner. No points needed.” The people erupted in applause below you in joy, but you were seeing red. Those were _your_ vegetables, vegetables that were grown because _you_ spent day after day tending to them and making sure they had the right amount of sun, water, and nutrients. Negan was a damn thief and he was being praised for it.

Negan slowly turned around, his smirk growing at the sight of your angry expression. “You see that?” He asked in a hushed whisper. “ _Respect_. Cool, huh?” He leaned closer to your ear. “They still on their knees?” It took every ounce of self control you had in your body to not spit in his face. “As you were!” He yelled back to the people. They climbed up from their knees and continued with whatever they were doing beforehand. Did they know what kind of leader they had? Did they think Negan and his men actually went out and found their food and supplies on their own merit? Or did they live comfy, ignoring your people were suffering for them?

“Y/N,” Carl muttered, touching his hand against your forearm. You looked back at him, your teeth aching from how hard you still had your jaw shut. “Come on.” He nodded after Negan and turned to leave, knowing you’d follow him. 

The next room you were led into was cozy, but the atmosphere made you feel uncomfortable. There were cushy couches surrounding a wooden coffee table, art covering the walls like any normal living room from before the apocalypse. Women, all wearing black dresses, were seated on the sofas. They all looked at your group as the three of you walked inside. 

“Ladies,” Negan greeted. “Don’t mind the kids, we’re just passing through” He turned and motioned at you and Carl. “I know, every woman where you’re from dresses like they do the books at an autoshop.” He chuckled. “You’re gonna wanna look at their titties.” His eyes flickered to you, scanning you from head to toe. "It’s cool! I won’t mind, they won’t mind.” His words were so nonchalant. Your face burned.

“Negan,” A feminine voice called from the center of the room. The man in question turned his head toward one of the women in dresses, her walking up to him. She stopped in front of his boots, leaning in close. “We need to talk.” 

“Later, darlin’,” He dismissed. “I have to show our new _friends_ around. To be continued?” He asked with a smirk, his gloved hand tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. Looking away, she nodded. 

She rotated to walk back to her seat on the couch and Negan took a step to continue leading you through the compound when there was a knock on the open door. Dwight stood there with his hand wound in the back of Daryl’s shirt, a tray of fruits and cheeses held tightly in the other man’s hands. You ignored the longing look Dwight seemed to be giving the girl as he watched her walk away and kept your eyes on Daryl. He stood there, like a dog on a leash, not doing anything to escape the hold on him. 

“You’re right on time!” Negan cheered as he grabbed a toothpick from the tray and skewered a grape. “Mmm,” He hummed as he chewed the food. Fruit was still something of a delicacy back at Alexandria, but the Saviors took so much of it, it was probably common here. “Y/N was it? Will you grab this tray for me?” 

You nodded, not trying to cause trouble when you and Carl were so clearly outnumbered. Your eyes met Daryl’s as you grasped the tray. He was still the same Daryl you’d grown close to back home, but there was something off and it was unsettling. 

“Why do you have them here?” Daryl demanded, pivoting back to face Negan. He always hid his emotions well, but he had an underlying expression of anger on his face, something only you and maybe Carl would notice. 

“Whoa!” Negan barked. “What we talk about when you’re not here is none of your concern. Don’t make me put this toothpick through her eye and make _both_ of them cyclopes.” 

“ _His_ eye.” You snapped. “And I dare you to try.” Everyone’s gaze jerked toward you and you heard Carl take in a sharp breath. The tray of fruit was gripped so tightly in your hands that your knuckles were white. Being disrespectful to Negan was at the top of the list of things _not_ to do while trapped in the Sanctuary, especially when he was already in a mood, but you were sick of it. You're a guy, not a girl, and you were getting tired of people not realizing that. Negan’s eyes roamed your face and then blinked once. You mentally prepared for the _“are you sure?”_ or whatever transphobic comment would spew from his lips.

“Sure, _his_ eye.” He shrugged, surprising you. Acceptance was the last thing you expected from that asshole. “Dwight, take Daryl to get a mop. And fire up that furnace. I’ll be down in a few. Time for a little déjà-vu.” He chuckled, placing the toothpick in Dwight’s shirt pocket. 

It wasn’t a secret that one of Negan’s favorite punishments was sticking a hot iron to the sides of peoples’ faces when they disobeyed him. Hell, Dwight was a walking example that it happened. The thought of the smell and the sight of skin melting off made you queasy. You wondered just how badly someone had to piss off Negan to deserve that. 

“Come on, kids.” The leader stated, motioning his hands forward. 

Carl walked past you, looking at both you and Daryl as he did so. You went to follow, but Daryl’s hand against your side slowed you. He whispered something so quietly you barely caught it, but it sounded like “ _you’ll be alright_ ”. You didn't get a chance to even look at him before he was being pulled out of the room by Dwight. The words repeated in your head and you shook it away as you kept walking, not wanting to dwell on it because doing so made your chest ache. 

As you entered the room attached to the living room, a scent that reminded you of air freshener met your nose. It was a bedroom, _Negan’s_ bedroom to be exact, and it was decorated from floor to ceiling with paintings, lamps, and other meaningless knick-knacks that seemed so extra nowadays. The bed was giant, made with the precision of an expensive resort hotel, and was covered in extra lavish pillows and blankets. Negan pulled the red scarf from around his neck and tossed it on the bed. The action was so normal and home-y it caught you off guard. 

“Welcome to my humble abode.” He welcomed as you and Carl crossed the threshold. You held onto the fruit tray with both hands, unsure of what to do with yourself. Negan was looking at God knows what at a desk and, even if he was a dick, it felt weird going through someone else’s bedroom, especially with them in the room with you. Carl, on the other hand, had no such qualms. He ran his hands over a deer head mounted on a wall. 

“Who were those women?” Carl asked, moving to flip through a small book on the corner table. 

“My, uh, personal assistants.” Negan chuckled. 

“Your harem, you mean.” You retorted. He didn’t seem to care about Carl looking around, so you threw caution to the wind and stepped toward the bed. Balancing the tray in one hand, you allowed yourself to run your fingers across the blanket strewn across his mattress. It was soft, warm, five times better than the blankets you had back home. 

“Hey, no,” He corrected. “We have an agreement, see. They agree to be my wives, I agree to take care of them. It’s, what’s the word, oh, _mutualism_.” 

You scoffed. “Sounds like a harem,” You mumbled to yourself. 

“Speaking of agreement,” Negan changed the subject. “You two, come sit.” You looked over, seeing he was seated on a couch on the right side of the bedroom. A table sat before it, which you sat the tray of fruit on, and you took a seat on one of the opposing chairs. “Let’s get started.”

“Started on what?” Carl asked, sitting beside you. 

“I want to get to know the two of you a little better.” 

“Why?” He wondered. You sat in silence, watching the exchange. Negan just seemed so… _not_ angry. He was confusing.

“Work it out. You’re both smart. In fact, I’m going to tell you just how smart you are, in case you don’t already know. See, how old are you two?” He asked.

“17.” Carl answered quietly, not sure where to keep his eyes. 

“19.” You lied. You knew you didn’t pass for your actual age, so you usually shot lower. Negan raised an eyebrow like he wanted to say something and you wished he’d just save it. You hated being told how much younger you looked. It only served to make you dysphoric. Luckily, he held his tongue. 

“17 and 19. Right. Now, I’d expect some kids your age to be moping around, not doing a damn thing, except crying about missing the _prom_.” Oh, how wrong he was. 

“We carry our weight.” You added quietly. You couldn't tell where he was going with his words, but you already knew you didn't like it.

Negan ignored you. “But you two- you go on a _mission_ . You find me, you kill _three_ of my men, and you’re smart enough to know that I’m not going to let this slide.” He let out a chuckle, dropping his eyes and rubbing his forehead before looking back at Carl. “Ah, I can’t- I can’t do it. It’s like talking to a birthday present. You gotta take that crap off your face. I wanna see what Grandma got me.” 

You felt like you would be able to hear a pen drop in the room. Carl’s head tilted and you stared at Negan, trying to determine if he was being serious or not. He _couldn't_ be, what kind of person says that?

“No.” Carl deadpanned. You felt pride for him swell up in your chest. 

“Three men!” Negan suddenly barked, slamming his fists down on the table in front of you. You jerked backward as the tray jingled. “Three… men. Punishment. You _really_ wanna piss me off?” He asked with a forced smile. Negan’s eyes flickered to you and back, your own eyes wide. He was _insane_. “Don’t worry, your little friend will get theirs next.” 

Carl sighed and looked down. He was going to do it. 

Part of you wanted to stop this bullshit, tell Negan where to shove it and get Carl the hell out of there. But, you knew it wasn’t possible. You and Carl _did_ kill three of his men. If a Savior did this back at Alexandria, they’d be strung up and executed before you could blink. For some twisted reason, Negan was going to let you live, but from what he has already demanded of Carl, you know it’ll still be a big price to pay. 

Carl reached up and removed his Sheriff’s hat, placing it on the table before reaching for the bandage to unwrap his eye. You’d only seen the wound once before and, sure, it was gruesome, but the sight wasn’t anything compared to the way Carl felt about it. To him, it was a sign of weakness and failure. And it was still so fresh, something he was still doing physical therapy to work around. Your heart ached for him. 

“Get that hair out of your face. Let me see.” Negan stated, voice firm but soft, as soon as the dressing was unwrapped from around Carl’s head. The younger boy did as he was told, lifting a shaking hand to push his fringe out of the way. 

“Christ! That is disgusting! No wonder you cover that up! Have you seen it?” Negan exclaimed. Your jaw almost dropped in awe and disgust at his words. You glanced at Carl, his chin wobbling. 

“I mean, have you looked in a mirror? That is gross as hell! I can see your socket!” He chuckled. “I wanna touch it." He shifted forward in his seat like an excited child. "Come on, can I touch it?” 

“You aren’t touching shit.” You bellowed, raising to your feet. Negan looked at you, an expression of surprise flashing in his eyes, the room silent except for Carl’s soft sniffles. “You’re a real _prick_ , you know that?” Your voice was steely, you were so angry you felt like you were vibrating. Your ears rang and your fists clenched so hard, your fingernails dug into your palms. 

Negan broke his gaze away from you, watching Carl wipe a tear away before settling on his hands folded in his lap. He was silent for a few more seconds before he rubbed his hand across his face. 

“I’m sorry, okay? Holy hell, kid. Look, I just- It’s easy to forget that you’re… just a _kid_. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings or anything. I was just screwing around.” You wanted to yell again, but you held back. This was Carl’s battle and you couldn’t fight all of them for him. 

“Just forget it.” He grumbled, picking back up his hat and gauze. 

“There’s a bathroom right through that door.” Negan stated, standing and pointing at the far wall. “You can go in there and… fix yourself up or whatever.”

Carl briskly stood up, letting his fringe fall back over his eye in an attempt at covering it up. You moved to follow him, at least wait outside the door for him as some kind of support, but before you could, Negan’s hand had a death grip on your forearm. You waited silently and stiff for the bathroom door to close. As soon as you heard the soft click, you tried to remove your arm from Negan’s grasp, but to no avail. 

“I’ve been letting you get by with a lot of shit today, and I mean _a lot_ of shit, but I’m at my wits end. Be smart like I know you are, kid, and _knock it off_ before you really _piss_ me off.” He whispered harshly in your ear before releasing you. You took a step away, not allowing yourself to rub at the sore spot. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

“Stop calling me kid.” You grumbled back. His eyes narrowed.

“You _are_ a kid.” He retorted. 

“I’m not. I don’t care if I _look_ like one, I’m not. You want me to start calling you _old man_?” God, you were just asking for it at this point, but you couldn’t hold yourself back. 

“You better watch what you fucking say to me.” The threat wasn’t even concealed, his voice murderously angry. 

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna do?” You hissed. You took a step forward, staring into his eyes even if you were a good half foot shorter. “Bang me up with Lucille? Burn my face with an iron? Shoot me, maybe take me prisoner and force me to be a _slave_ ? Go ahead.” You spat. You kept your eyes locked on him for a few seconds and you could see the gears slowly turning in his head. You turned on your heel and headed toward the bathroom, some of your anger being replaced with fear as you processed what you just said to him. God, you were _really_ asking for it. Negan probably murdered people for less. Pushing the thought from your mind, you leaned up against the wall outside of the restroom, waiting for Carl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> p.s. I'm currently working on a story playlist, so watch out for that!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan fires up the furnace, and you and Carl finally get back to Alexandria.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little note: I changed something small in the very first chapter. Rather than you joining the group at Alexandria, you joined them during their final days at the prison. 
> 
> I said last chapter this would be the final update following the episodes so carefully, but uh... I was wrong. I was going to connect this update with the next, but I'm not even halfway through what will be the next chapter and it's already 6k words. So, I'm splitting it up. Next update WILL be the end of following the episodes, though, and it'll be uploaded soon!
> 
> Also, here's a link to the album mentioned later in the chapter. It doesn't have anything to do with the tone of this update, but it's a good album anyway lol. https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=OLAK5uy_nhC_kjFm4uagaIpJCrsSYEBFcz8pAl5l8
> 
> warnings: Negan's iron, swearing, misgendering

By the time Carl exited Negan’s en suite bathroom, you’d counted all of the leaves sprouting from the potted plant in the corner of the room. His mouth was set in a straight line, his expression made of steel, and he refused to even look at you. You couldn’t blame him, though, not after what happened with Negan. Even thinking about it made you angry all over again, but you needed to control your temper. You’d definitely crossed the line speaking to him the way you did, but maybe if you watched yourself, and if luck's on your side, he’d just forget all about it. 

“You’re right on time!” Negan cheered, standing from the couch. “I think it should be ready by now.” 

“What should be ready?” Carl asked, his voice matching his face. Negan smiled. 

“The iron!” He grabbed Lucille from where she sat by the door, swinging her across his shoulder as he exited the bedroom. “Close the door on your way out, Y/N, I don’t want to let the heat out.” 

Negan led you and Carl back the exact same way you came in, which didn’t allow you see much else of the compound. You didn’t know where the other Saviors slept, where they ate, or where they stored all the supplies they got from the communities and scavenging. The interior, like the exterior, was sleek metal and you absentmindedly wondered just how well a place like this held up in the cold weather. Obviously, some sort of generator was running the place, but back in Alexandria, everyone kept their heating and AC use to a minimum. 

As you made your way farther and farther into the Sanctuary, you began to wonder who would be getting the iron this time. Would it be you as your punishment for killing that Savior and talking back to Negan? Would it be Carl for shooting two Saviors? Both of you, one after the other? Could it be Daryl as another one of Negan’s attempts at proving how much power he held? The thoughts were driving you crazy. 

Eventually, the three of you made it back onto the platform you’d entered on, the one where Negan had the Saviors kneel as a display of his dominance. Everyone was gathered on the floor below in a big crowd and on the left wall, a fire was burning in a large industrial furnace that must’ve been in the Sanctuary before Negan found it, back when it was just an old abandoned factory. 

Negan clanged Lucille against the metal rails as you passed them, effectively silencing the Saviors below you like a school teacher clapping their hands at their students. Everyone kneeled and you could pinpoint Daryl in the mass, on his knees beside a mop bucket. Next to him was a man you’ve never seen before, probably a Savior that wasn't a supply runner, strapped to a chair. It made you feel guilty afterward, but you were relieved to see you, Carl, nor Daryl seemed to be the ones getting the iron to the face. 

Switching Lucille into his other hand, Negan held the bat out to you. “Hold that for me, please.” You took a breath and grasped the bat, the weight catching you off guard. Of course, you’ve held a wooden baseball bat before, before the apocalypse for sports and after as a weapon. The barbed wire couldn’t weigh that much, but maybe it was the fact that you knew what kind of damage this thing could inflict on someone. How many walkers had Negan used her on? How many living people?

“You know the deal,” Negan began in his lecture to the Saviors. “What’s about to happen is going to be hard to watch. I don’t want to do it. I wish I could just ignore the rules and let it slide, but I can’t. Why?” He took steps forward, making his way further across the platform. 

“The rules keep us alive.” The Saviors all recited together. Negan turned to descend the set of stairs leading to the floor below you, sending you and Carl a smirk. 

“That… Is… Right! We survive. We provide security to others. We bring civilization back to this world. We are the Saviors.” You had to hold back your scoff. These people, Negan especially, were so self righteous it made you nauseous. 

“We can’t do that without rules. Rules are what make it all work. I know it’s not easy, but there’s always work, there is always a cost.” He paused for a second before continuing, his voice harsher than you’d ever heard it. “Here, if you try to skirt it, if you try to cut that corner…” He trailed off with a chuckled. “Then it is the iron for you. On your feet.” He commanded the people. 

Everyone had risen by the time the three of you finished descending the stairs. The crowd parted as Negan strolled through and they stayed separated long enough for Carl and you to follow through, Lucille still held tight in your hand. Daryl stood in the midst of the crowd, beside the guy strapped to the chair. He held the mop tightly, making eye contact with you. You edged closer to him, keeping an eye on Negan. This whole event gave you the creeps. 

As Negan slipped on a pair of leather industrial gloves, Dwight pulled a rod from the furnace, an old steam iron hanging from a hook at the end. Your mind slowly connected the dots as you watched the iron glow scarlet. The 'iron' was a _literal iron_. You couldn’t tell if it was your mind playing tricks on you, but you could feel the heat radiating from it, even from 6 feet away. Negan grabbed the red weapon in his hand, stepping slowly toward the man in the chair. Sweat poured from his face, his eyes closed, awaiting his fate. 

“Mark, I’m sorry. But it is what it is.” Negan brought the iron to the man’s face, the hissing noise catching you off guard and causing you to grab Carl’s shirt sleeve without realizing it. The man screamed in agony, his throat going raw with the noises he was making. You turned your head from the scene, closing your eyes and willing the knot of bile to stay down in your stomach. You felt Daryl side step closer to you, but it made no difference. You'd endured seeing a lot since the dead began walking, but this was easily in the top 5. 

The screaming finally stopped and you forced yourself to take a peek at what was happening. The man has passed out, the side of his face red and blistered. Without a word, Negan hooked the iron back onto the rod. You caught a whiff of a burning smell and immediately brought a hand to your nose. Smelling walkers was one thing, you refused to smell burnt, _living_ flesh. 

“Dr. Carson,” Negan stated, his voice hard. An older man, one who you knew to be the previous doctor at Hilltop, stepped through an opening in the crowd, tending to Mark as he remained fastened to his seat. “Everything is settled.” Negan announced to the crowd. “Everything is square, everything is cool. Let this serve as a reminder that _rules matter_ . I hope everyone learned something today, because I don’t _ever_ want to have to do that again.” 

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath through your mouth, grounding yourself. It was over. You could feel Daryl and Carl both standing beside you, the bat still hanging from your hand. You opened your eyes to see Negan walking toward you. 

“Daryl, clean this up. Kids, let’s go figure out what to do with you.” He placed his hand on both yours and Carl’s shoulder, making you turn around and guiding you forward to the stairs. Your mind was reeling, you didn't even think to shake his hand away. 

Negan took Lucille back from you as you crossed the platform, walking ahead of you and Carl and taking his place as the head of your little group. You refused to allow yourself to think of what you’d just witnessed and instead focused on your surroundings. Now that you were making your way to Negan’s room for the third time, you could recognize where you were headed and could foretell which turns you’d take before you even got there. 

As soon as Negan stepped into his room, he made a bee-line for his desk on the far wall. Papers still covered it like earlier, perhaps even _more_ laid out for him to look at. He grabbed a few sheets, a pen, and a notebook before dropping onto his couch, Lucille propped up against the piece of furniture. Unsure of what to do with yourselves, you and Carl returned to the chairs you’d been seated in previously, waiting quietly. 

“Why haven’t you killed us yet?” Carl asked after a couple minutes, breaking the silence with his hard voice. Your eyes shot up at him, no longer focused on the skin on the pad of your thumb that you’d been picking at. Negan looked up as well, his eyes tired. “Or my dad? Or Daryl? What are you waiting for?”

“Daryl is going to make a great soldier for me. He thinks he’s holding it together, but he’s not. _Both_ of you saw it. Your dad? He’s already getting me great stuff. You two, on the other hand, well… we shall see. It’s more productive to break you.” His eyes glanced between you and Carl. “You thinking that’s stupid?” He asked, his head tilted to the side. 

“I’m thinking we’re different.” Carl responded. It was true. At Alexandria, threats were eliminated, not played with. 

“I’ve told you a hundred times already, but you two are smart kids. What do you think I should do?” Negan inquired, dropping the pad of paper and his pen on the table. He leaned forward, his eyebrows raised and his hands clasped in front of him. “You know I can’t just let you two go. So, do I kill you? Iron your faces? Tell me, what do you think?” Before you could even think about his words or how he was basically mocking what you snapped at him earlier, Carl stood to his feet. 

“I think you should jump out that window to save _me_ the trouble of killing _you_.” His voice was quiet and murderous, something you’d never heard from him before. He stared down at Negan and you held your breath, waiting to see the older man’s reaction. 

Negan tried to force a smirk, the expression never fully crossing his face. He let out a faux chuckle. “Now _there_ is the kid that impressed the hell out of me! Your friend, here, has been letting me have it _all damn day_! I was waiting for you to let it out!”

“I think you’re not saying what you’re going to do to us because you’re not going to do _anything_.” You wanted to grab Carl’s arm, smack him the head and tell him to shut the hell up. But that’s just one of the differences between you and Carl. You started this little field trip out strong, and when Negan threatened you, you met him head on. Now you were just tired and wanted to go home. Carl, on the other hand, took shit and took it until he couldn’t take it anymore. 

“If you knew us, if you knew anything, you would kill us. But you can’t.” Negan’s face slowly dropped, his facade fading away. Carl was really getting to him. 

“Hoo. Maybe you’re right,” he muttered. “Maybe I can’t.” Negan thought for a second before he clapped and lifted himself to his feet, picking up Lucille as he stood. “Let’s go for a ride, kids.” 

Perhaps he was doing it on purpose, leading you and Carl through the same corridors as you made your way out of the Sanctuary. It was a smart idea to hide what the inside looked like, especially since he no longer doubted the potential you and Carl had to be dangerous threats. As you stepped outside, you noticed a truck, just like the one the two of you had ridden in on, waiting by the front gate.

Hope rose in your chest. Maybe Negan was taking you home? And then that hope fell, because if Negan was taking you home, Rick, Michonne, _everyone_ would know that you and Carl snuck into the Sanctuary and pulled this stunt. And you would be in deep, _deep_ shit. You were an adult, so it wasn’t like they could ground you or punish you for your actions, but Rick and Michonne, along with Daryl, had acted as something like a parental unit from the moment you joined the group during your final teen years. They took care of you, trained you to properly take care of yourself, and the thought of them being disappointed in you gave you chills. It's a feeling you _never_ wanted to experience. 

“Jared!” Negan called one of the nearby Saviors as he waltzed toward the truck. “Bring me the keys.” The same long haired man that pinned you down and pressed the nozzle of the gun into your back earlier, when you and Carl were shooting down Saviors, came over, a set of keys swinging on his fingers. 

“You finally taking that damn girl out and killin’ her?” He asked, cutting his eyes at you. You took a deep breath and released it, not allowing yourself to react. It wasn’t the time _or_ the place to start a fight with someone over pronouns. “Serves her right. Jacob was our best mechanic.” Jacob must’ve been the Savior you killed. Oops. 

“I’m giving these young _men_ a lift home.” Negan responded, taking the keys from his hand and climbing into the truck. He stressed the men and even though you hated his guts, you were a tiny bit thankful. 

“ _Man_? Look at her-!” 

“Quiet!” Negan interrupted with a shout. Jared’s mouth snapped shut, his eyes wide. “Get back to work!” The long haired man turned on his heel and hurried back to his station, his tail between his legs. Negan sighed before turning to you and Carl, the two of you having watched the entire exchange. “What are you waiting for, a written invitation?” 

You pulled the door open and held it for Carl to climb in first. Being the youngest, he was assigned the terrible hump seat. Lucille was propped up in between your legs, close enough that you could see the wood underneath the barbed wire had a dark red stained tinge. 

“Daryl,” Negan yelled. The man in question walked up, a wooden stick in hand to fight off walkers, stopping outside your open window. Save for during the iron fiasco, this was the closest you’d been to him in months. “You seem worried, so I’m taking the boys home.” He explained in faux empathy. 

“If you do anything to them-” Daryl began, the threat in his voice obvious. 

“Dwight!” Negan called, cutting his words off. You could feel the smugness rolling off him in waves. “Daryl needs a timeout. Put him back in his box for a while.” The crunching of gravel could be heard as Dwight made his way toward you. 

You sent Daryl a one sided smile. “Be careful.” You silently mouthed. He nodded in response, holding your eyes even as Dwight grabbed his shirt to pull him away. 

“Let’s get this show on the road!” Negan announced, putting the truck in drive and pulling down the road leading to the factory. “Don’t get too rowdy, now, kids, or by golly, I’ll turn this goddamn car around!” He chuckled. You shook your head, turning to watch the scenery through the window. A couple trucks pulled out of the Sanctuary behind you, likely Negan’s men following to fend off any potential funny business in Alexandria.

The ride to the Sanctuary this morning hadn’t seemed long, but it felt like it took you 15 minutes just to get off of the factory property. Sure, before you spent the entire time cutting boxes and didn’t pay attention to how much actual time had passed since climbing on board, but you swore time was moving backward as you sat in the truck with Carl and Negan. 

As far as car rides go, anyway, this was the worst one you’d ever been on, including the 13 hour road trip you took with your father when you were 11 to summer camp. The atmosphere was tense, now that the feeling of the aftermath of what you and Carl actually did was settling in. Sure, Negan taunted Carl over his eye and made you both watch him burn a man’s face off with an iron, but you killed _three_ of his men. That was three less people working, three people he'd have to replace. He wasn’t going to just forgive and forget. 

“Open that glove compartment and get the book of CDs out, would ya?” Negan asked you, breaking the hush of the vehicle. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, but did what he said. How many CDs could one person have, especially in the midst of the apocalypse? Rick and some of the other regular supply runners had CDs to listen to during long drives, and Judith had some CDs in her bedroom with nursery rhymes on them, but no one just… Listened to music anymore. No one really had the time. Sometimes you would catch Carol humming old songs while she worked, and on special occasions, the people at Alexandria would throw the closest thing to a cookout they could and someone would bust out an old CD player and play some obscure 90s album. Fishing the book of CDs out from the cluttered glove box, you unzipped it and your mouth opened in awe. 

There had to be _at least_ 150 CDs in the book alone. 

“Pick something.” Negan invited. You flipped the page, a little surprised to see that the discs were organized in alphabetical order by artist. Flipping one more page, you selected the first CD your hand landed on. Recovering the Satellites by Counting Crows. Carefully pulling it out of the dust sleeve, you extended your hand past Carl, handing the disc to Negan. He pushed it into the Isuzu CD player, the soothing sound of guitar playing from the speakers. 

About seven songs played before you began to recognize your surroundings. You were getting closer to Alexandria, some of the abandoned houses on the sides of the road and road signs getting familiar. By the time the eighth song ended, you were pulling up to the gates of the community. Negan turned down the radio, the music now barely audible. The gates opened up without anyone having to say a word, everyone in Alexandria long since having gotten used to Negan showing up unannounced. 

“Alright,” Negan began after parking the truck and cutting off the engine. “Let’s go pay your _daddy_ a visit, huh Carl?” He chuckled, grabbing Lucille from in front of you and pulling her out with him. You rolled your eyes and, if you knew Carl as well as you’re sure you do, he did the same. The two of you climbed out of the car, directing Negan toward the house Rick, Carl, and Michonne shared. As you climbed on the porch, you felt like something was off. It was too quiet. 

Negan knocked on the door with Lucille and you were surprised to see Olivia swing the door open. He mouth opened in shock, no words coming out.

 _Fuck_ , Rick wasn’t here.

Whistling as he did so, Negan walked in, making himself at home. 

“Carl’s where’s-” 

“Enid’s fine.” He interrupted Olivia. “Is dad still out?” She nodded. She must’ve been over to babysit Judith, which meant Judith was just upstairs, a single floor separating her and Negan.

 _Holy fuck_. 

“Great, great, great, great, great, great!” Negan enthused, glancing around the house. There was a serious lack of decoration, caused by both the apocalypse and the fact that the Saviors took half of everything, including room decor. “Where’s Rick?” He asked. 

“He’s, um, out scavenging for you.” Olivia answered, her voice shaky with panic.

“Cool.” Negan replied, his eyes narrowing. He could tell something was up. “I’ll wait.”

“He, uh, went out pretty far. They m-might not be back today.” Her voice cracked on the last word. She was horrible at concealing her fear. 

“Well, that’s all right, yeah! I’m just gonna put my feet up, wait for my stuff to get here.” Negan decided, taking a seat at one of the stools at the kitchen counter. “What was your name again, doll?”

“Olivia.” She replied, her voice considerably less shaky than before. 

“Ah,” He hummed. “Olivia, would you be a lamb and make us a little lemonade? I know you all have some of that good powdered stuff.” 

“I’m supposed to be with…” Her voice trailed off as she saw you and Carl shaking your heads at her. Negan was _not_ supposed to know about Judith. 

“Make it!” Negan commanded, his voice frightening Olivia and making her jump. “Take your time and make it good.” As his words left his mouth, Olivia took one glance at you and Carl before she rushed toward the back door, leaving the three of you alone. “Alright, kids, take me on the grand tour!” 

It felt like an hour had passed, but you’d only shown Negan the kitchen, downstairs bathroom, and the living room. You and Carl were trying to procrastinate getting to the second floor of the house in case a miracle happened and Rick arrived early, but Negan was making it easy. He wanted to see and touch _everything_ and spend a good five minutes just watching the faucet at the kitchen sink run. As you finished showing him the living room linen closet, the last room left downstairs, you were hoping and praying Rick would be home soon. Judith’s bedroom was the last door on the hall and since she wasn’t downstairs with Olivia when you arrived, the only room left for her to be in is her own. 

“This is my room.” Carl sighed, pushing the wooden door open. A few posters were pinned up around the room, all of them just to add some color to the white walls and not because Carl was actually interested in what they depicted. One was a surfing poster, for crying out loud. His mattress, like everyone else’s, was lying on the floor against the farthest wall, pushed up under the curtainless window. A single pillow and blanket laid on top and a few comic books laid on the floor beside it. It was sad, really.

“Nice carpet.” Negan commented, running his booted foot over the fabric. On the wall closest to the door was a single desk with darts scattered across the top. Denise had recommended practicing throws as a means of physical therapy for his eye, and now you and him just kept it around for fun. Negan grabbed a dart and chucked it at the board, getting a bullseye. 

Finished with exploring Carl’s bedroom, Negan strolled out of the doorway, one room left on the hall. Judith’s. 

“This your room?” Negan asked, directing the question at you as he reached for the doorknob. 

“No! Uh,” His hand paused as he looked at you, confused by the loud abrupt answer. “I live next door. That’s just a water heater closet.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? You don’t want me to see your room that bad?” He shook his head and turned the knob, opening the door. “I won’t go through your-” His words stopped as he looked inside, Judith standing in her crib with her stuffed elephant clutched in her hands. “Oh, my. Look at this little angel.” He walked over and lifted her into his arms, bouncing her as she settled against him. 

You looked to Carl, unsure of what to do. Negan wouldn’t listen if you told him to leave Judith alone and with her in his arms, you couldn’t make him leave by force. A voice inside you told you that Negan wouldn’t hurt Judith, anyway. He might be a complete asshole, but he didn’t hurt people just for the hell of it, especially children. He needed a reason first and there was nothing a toddler could do that would fairly result in murder. Besides, Negan let you and Carl live even after you killed some of his men. There were less safe places for Judith to be than with Negan.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan plays a game of pool, Rick returns to Alexandria, and you go on another trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update! Thank you SO much for 100 reads!! I never expected this to get even 50. I'm so thankful!
> 
> Check end notes for details for after reading!
> 
> Warnings: violence, swearing, unsafe chest binding, Spencer being Spencer, knocking someone out, and kidnapping(?).

It was nearing sundown and Rick  _ still _ hadn’t returned to Alexandria. Negan was getting impatient, you could tell, but you were just biding your time until Rick got home. So far, Negan had finished the entire pitcher of lemonade from Denise, which tasted more like sugary water than actual lemonade, used Rick’s bathroom to shower and shave, and used the kitchen to make you, Carl, Olivia, and Judith homemade spaghetti. 

The four of you were still seated at the dining room table, although the spaghetti was long since finished. You’d never admit it to anyone, but you hadn’t been that full in what felt like years. Rick worked his ass off to keep enough supplies for the Alexandrians even with Negan taking half, but there were always limits. Limits on how much you could eat, rations for each household, and it wasn’t Rick’s fault, but it never felt like it was enough. Your belly was so full, you were beginning to feel sleepy. 

“ _ No _ .” Arat, Negan’s right hand woman, said from outside where she was guarding the porch. Negan lifted his head, listening.

“ _ I just want to talk to him. _ ” You heard a voice that never failed to get on your nerves. Spencer. That prick.

Negan grabbed Lucille and stood from his seat, marching outside to see what was going on. You and Carl followed, watching the exchange from the open door. 

“Don’t be an asshole, Arat.” Negan voiced. The two stopped bickering and looked up at him from their position on the bottom steps. “Let the man pass.” Arat did as she was told, stepping to the side and allowing the man to come up the porch steps. Spencer didn’t spare a glance at you as he reached the top step, handing Negan a bottle of whiskey. 

“We haven’t officially met. I’m Spencer Monroe.” He introduced himself, dressed like it was _casual fucking Friday_ at the office. You scoffed quietly. 

“Well, Spencer, it’s great to meet you.” Negan stuck his hand out, giving Spencer’s hand a firm shake. “Let’s talk.” He walked toward the open front door, grabbing the handle and beginning to pull it shut. He gave you a wink before closing it completely, cutting off yours and Carl’s access to their conversation. 

“This isn’t good.” You mumbled, heading toward the side window. It wasn’t a secret that Spencer didn’t approve of Rick’s style of leadership from the get go and that feeling only grew after Spencer’s mother, Deanna, passed away. There was no reason he should be talking to Negan right now and the fact he sneakily approached him while Rick was gone worried you even more. 

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Carl wondered as he headed back to the dining room table. He slumped back into his seat, picking up his fork and poking at his leftover pasta. 

“I don’t know.” You answered honestly. “ _ God _ , where’s Rick?” It had been hours since you arrived in Alexandria with Negan and probably longer since Rick even left. 

The lot of you relocated to the living room, Judith continuing her nap on the sofa while the rest of you took seats on the remaining furniture. The day felt never ending and finally sitting down gave you the opportunity to actually try and ground yourself. You took a deep breath and a very dull pain shot through your ribs. You knew that pain well. Checking the clock hanging on the wall, you realized you’d been wearing your binder for just over 8 hours. Usually, you took it off and changed into something more loose fitting, but the thought had escaped your mind so far. As soon as Negan leaves, you promised yourself.

“Y/N! Carl!” Negan hollered from outside. You shot up from your seat, the anxiety coming back full force. 

The front door swung open and Negan strolled inside, Lucille propped up on his shoulder. “Come help me with something, hmm?”

Negan instructed you and Carl to relocate a pool table from the garage attached to the house across the street into the road in front of the Grimes residence. He and Spencer stood by and watched, glasses of alcohol in their hands, as the two of you lugged the 250lbs table, balls, and cue sticks into the street. You looked at Spencer before heading back to the porch, the smug face as he rubbed chalk on his cue stick making your face heat in annoyance. Unbeknownst to you, Negan saw the entire exchange. And he  _ loved _ drama. 

“Y/N,” He called back to you. He took another sip of his drink, watching you. “Stay here.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed, but you did as he instructed. The spreading gossip that Negan was in the safe-zone, along with the ordeal of you and Carl carrying the pool table out, attracted a crowd of Alexandrians into the road. You saw familiar faces. Eugene, Rosita, Tara, Eric, even Gabriel were out to watch everything go down. There were some unfamiliar faces, too, but those people held guns, meaning they were Saviors. You stood to the left of Arat, the rest of the Alexandrians spectating from behind you.

“Why?” You asked Negan. It made no difference whether you stood down here or up on the porch with Carl and Denise. In fact, you preferred to be up there. 

Negan shrugged. “We need a fair referee.” He stated, handing you his cue stick to take another swig of his drink. You knew nothing about the game of billiards, save for the players hit some balls into pockets, but at least being this close meant you would get to hear what Spencer and Negan had to say to each other. 

Arat racked the balls and Negan chuckled to Spencer. “I could never do this with Rick. He would just be standing there, scowling, giving me that annoying side eye he gives me.” He grabbed the pool stick back from you, using it to practice lining up a shot. 

“That’s actually what I came to see you about. I want to talk to you about Rick.” Spencer responded. You shot your eyes at him, you  _ knew _ he was up to something. 

Negan grabbed a chalk cube and rubbed it on the end of his pool stick. “Talk to me, Spencer. Talk to me about Rick.” He took his cue, sending the colored balls spinning around the table. 

“I get what you’re trying to do here, what you’re trying to build.” Spencer, the damn  _ boot licker _ , stated. “I’m not saying I agree with your methods, but I get it. You’re building a network, you’re making people contribute for the greater good. It makes sense. But you should know that Rick Grimes has a history of not working well with others.” Your fists clenched and you took an unconscious step forward. He had no right to be speaking about Rick that way. Sure, Rick had some demons to take down along the way, but so did every single one of the other survivors around today. He  _ saved _ Alexandria and all the people inside. Spencer didn’t care about them, he only cared about himself. 

“Mm,” Negan hummed like he was barely listening, taking another shot. “Is that so?” You looked up at the porch, making eye contact with Carl. His face was expressionless, but you couldn’t tell if that was because he was unable to hear the garbage Spencer was spewing about his father or if he agreed with it. You hoped it was the former.

“Rick wasn’t the original leader here. My mom was. She was doing a really good job of it.” You looked down, trying to hold in your words of disagreement and kicked at a pebble in the street. A  _ great _ job, keeping everyone unsuspecting and waiting like live bait. “Then, she died, not long after Rick showed up. Same with my brother, same with my dad.” 

That’s what all this boiled down to. Spencer was  _ mourning _ , which he had every right to after losing his entire family in such a small amount of time. But he was blaming Rick for everything when it wasn’t his fault. His father’s death was caused by an abusive alcoholic, and his brother’s death was an accident, the same with his mother’s. Rick wasn’t to blame for  _ any _ of it. 

“So, everything was peachy here for, what, years?” Negan wondered. You could hear the lack of trust in his voice as he took another swallow of his drink. “And then Rick shows up, and suddenly, you’re an orphan? That is the saddest story I’ve ever heard. Good thing for you, he’s not in charge anymore.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Spencer immediately responded, unable to hold himself back. _Bad_ _move_. The last thing you should ever tell Negan is that he’s wrong. “His ego’s out of control. He’ll find a way to screw things up, to try and do things his way, to take over. That’s what he did with my mom. That’s what he’ll do again.” Spencer elaborated bitterly. 

Negan’s eyebrows shot up for a fraction of a second, considering the words, before he lifted his glass to his lips again. If spending some time with that man taught you anything, it was that his expressions were very telling. He was an open book. And he didn’t believe a word of what Spencer was saying. 

“What exactly are you proposing be done about that?” He asked. 

“I am my mother’s son.” Spencer declared. “I can be the leader she was. That’s what this place needs, that’s what you need.” You had to admit, you felt sorry for him. He was obviously grieving, no matter if his way of going about it was healthy or not, and he was really trying to sell his soul out here. 

“So I should put you in charge? That’s what you’re saying?” Spencer didn’t even realize that Negan had him eating out of the palm of his hands.

“We’d be much better off.” You shook your head at his words, turning your head to glance at the people behind you. So many of these people came in with Rick or decided to stand by him and his decisions as the leader. Did any of them hold the same beliefs as Spencer? Were they willing to throw him under the bus in such a cowardly way? 

“I’m thinking, Spencer. I’m thinking how Rick threatened to kill me, how he clearly despises me. But he is out there, right now, gathering shit for me to make sure I don’t hurt any of the fine people that live here. That includes you.” Negan stepped back from the pool table, pool stick still in his hand. “He is swallowing his hate and getting shit done.” He chuckled. “That takes nerve.” 

You could see the second Spencer realized his plan wasn’t going the way he intended. His mouth opened a couple times, no sounds coming out, and dug his hand into his pocket. 

“And then there’s you,” Negan continued anyway. “The guy who waited for Rick to be gone so he could sneak over  and talk to me to get me to do his dirty work, so he could take Rick’s place.” Spencer shook his head. “So I gotta ask, if you wanna take over, why not just kill Rick yourself?” 

“What? N-No, I didn’t-” Spencer floundered, trying to save the conversation. But it was too late.

“You know what I’m thinking? ‘Cause I have a guess.” Negan shook his head, gripping the stick tighter in his grasp. “It’s because you don’t have the nerve.” 

You knew what was happening before your eyes even processed it. Negan lifted the stick above him, much like he would Lucille, and smashed it down against the side of Spencer’s head. Spencer’s body spun with the force of the hit, doing a full 180 before hitting the ground in a crumpled heap. A full second passed before anything happened and in that second, you saw a dark red spot form on the side of his skull. Then, it was anarchy. 

Alexandrians yelled out in protest, causing the Saviors standing in the street to come closer, guns aimed to kill. You backed up into your people and quickly, there became two sides: Alexandrians and Saviors. Negan dropped the stick to the ground and grabbed Lucille from where she was propped up against the table. 

“Anyone wanna finish the game?” He asked, holding his hand out toward the table in a faux invitation. No one said a word, but Rosita, who was now standing beside you, moved her hand to her back, directly above the waistline of her jeans. 

You understood her. First, Negan almost killed Abraham, and now he’d beat Spencer in the head with a damn pool stick. If it weren’t for the visible rise and fall of Spencer’s chest, you’d think he actually was dead. Even if the sympathy you felt for Deanna’s son was microscopic, you could understand how Rosita was feeling, but attacking Negan wasn’t going to help the situation. 

You stuck your hand out, being as stealthy as you could manage, and wrapped your fingers gently around her wrist.

“Let. Go.” She muttered harshly, her eyes still boring into Negan. 

“He’s still alive.” You whispered back. “He’ll be okay. Don’t make this any worse.” Rosita jerked her eyes to you, searching your face before exhaling through her nose and dropping her hand. She gave a little nod, as close to a  _ thank you _ as you were ever going to get from Rosita Espinosa. 

When you looked up, Negan was watching you. He gave you a smirk and your nostrils flared in annoyance. You didn’t stop Rosita for  _ Negan _ , you stopped her for everyone else. There was no way pulling a gun on him would go down smoothly. Shooting him was going to make him angry and it was only going to cause more people to get hurt. 

You heard shuffling behind you and you turned around. _Finally_ , Rick was back. Aaron was slung over his shoulder, his face swollen and bruised. Your heart dropped into your stomach at the sight.  _ What the fuck was going on? _

“We had an agreement!” Rick bit out as Eric took Aaron from his shoulder. His eyes searched the Alexandrians, falling on Spencer who was still knocked out on the ground. 

“Rick!” Negan, the bastard, called out in a false welcome. “How about a ‘thank you’?” 

Rick tilted his head, lost for words, his eyes ever so often looking back at Spencer. Everyone else seemed to be okay, but he couldn’t figure out why he was on the ground and why there was a pool table in the road. 

“I know we’re not  _ bffs _ or anything, but how about a little credit? I just bent over backwards to show you how reasonable I am!” Negan licked his lips and then pointed toward Carl. “Your kid,” His finger shifted to you. “and his little friend, they hid in one of my trucks and machine gunned a bunch of my men down, and I brought them home, safe and sound!” Rick’s head whipped around. “And I fed them spaghetti!” 

Rick’s eyes were bloodshot and the dark circles under his eyes were the most prominent you’d ever seen them. He looked like hell and his eyes flickered between you and Carl, his mouth open with a look of disbelief across his features. You looked away, unable to meet his gaze. Rick had been out of touch with Carl’s life for a while, but he was still his father and was just as important to you. You couldn’t see him look at you with such disappointment, like he didn’t even know who you were. 

“Another one of your people, well, he wanted me to kill you and put him in charge. I did you a  _ favor _ . He’ll live and, forgive me for overstepping, but if that was going on in  _ my _ domain, I’d give him a whole lot more than a slap on the wrist.” Rick turned fully toward Negan, his shoulders squared and his jaw ticking. For a second, he looked like he was going to do something, finally stand up to Negan. 

“Your shit’s waiting for you at the gate.” He stated, taking a half step backward. Of course he wouldn’t do anything. “Just go.” 

Negan raised his eyebrows. “Sure thing, Rick,” He chuckled. “Right after I have a little chat with Y/N.” 

Everyone’s eyes collectively flashed to you, your blood running cold. Negan smirked through the silence. 

“Why?” You finally asked, shaking your head. Somehow, your voice didn’t tremble, even though you could feel your knees doing so. 

“Because  _ I said so _ .” Negan responded like it was obvious. “You know, Y/N, I think you’ve got the wrong idea about the Saviors. The way you just… waltzed in and gunned my men down, and the way you spoke to me in my room? Even after the  _ hospitality _ I showed you? You just don’t seem to get it. That shit is  _ not _ cool and it does  _ not _ fly with me. But, I’m a nice guy. I’m reasonable. So I’m going to give you a chance to make up for your actions.” 

Negan had punished Carl for the stunt at the Sanctuary by making fun of his eye. You were a complete fool to think yours wasn’t coming or thinking that having to see that Savior get his face ironed was punishment enough. Negan didn’t just forget shit like that. And he didn't take lightly to being talked back to.

“How?” Your voice was tight. This couldn’t be happening. 

“You’re going to take a little break from your friends here in Alexandria, and you’re going to come back to the Sanctuary with me.”

Your head spun. _What?_

“ How long?” You inquired. 

“Let’s not start a countdown, alright? Once I see that you can fully  _ appreciate _ what the Saviors have built and work toward, I’ll drive you back here myself. After that, we’ll be square.” 

Negan turned, his hand still on your neck, to face Rick. You couldn’t read the expression on the man’s face, but whatever it was, it didn’t look good. “Rick, I’m going to be relieving you of your… What was your job again? Ah, who cares!” Negan exclaimed, swatting at the air with the hand that was still holding Lucille. “Him, and whatever you’ve got waiting at that front gate for me.” 

“No.” Rick stated. In a split second, he reached his hand into the side of his pants and when his hand raised back up, a pistol was aimed straight at Negan. “He stays.” You swallowed the little bit of saliva left in your mouth. Rick didn’t aim unless he intended to shoot. “Let him go! Now!” He barked. 

“Ya know, I don’t think you’re in the position to be making demands, Rick,” Negan chuckled. His hand released your neck, only to grab onto the collar of your shirt instead. He slowly led both of you forward until the pistol was pressed against his chest. “Are you?” He asked, a smirk on his lips. 

Rick’s eyes turned to you, searching your face. You wanted to scream, but you just stared at him, your jaw clenched. You knew he couldn’t shoot Negan. Negan was like a cat with nine lives, he’d never die that easily, and pissing him off will serve no purpose other than getting innocent people hurt. You gave your head the tiniest shake you could manage, hoping Rick would understand. 

The pistol lowered and you felt tears prickle at the back of your eyes.

Negan’s smirk widened. He leaned forward, pulling you with him, into Rick’s face. 

“That’s what I thought.” He chuckled. “Let’s go.” 

The saviors all moved at once, approaching you and Negan. Before you could do anything, you were being hauled to the front gates of the safe-zone, past all your friends and family and out of your home. There wasn’t even time to think about other options. 

Negan opened the door to the truck and held it for you, waving a hand into the cabin. You considered resisting, considered running and hiding, maybe you could find Carol’s cabin and stay with her. You knew it would be a lost cause, though. If you ran, Negan would find you. You numbly climbed inside, your eyes locking with Rick’s in the process. You could see the hopelessness in his eyes, wanting to find a way to save you but completely out of his depths. It was obvious he blamed himself and even though you were the person in trouble, you wanted to tell him it would be alright. You gave him one last half-smile before getting into the truck, facing away from everyone. 

You couldn’t find it in you to turn around and look at all the people. You weren’t just leaving behind a warm home and a roof over your head, you were leaving behind the people you cared about most, the ones who accepted you despite your gender and sexuality. Looking back would be too hard. Pulling your feet into the seat, you wrapped your arms around your legs and rested your chin on your knees. You needed to look on the bright side. 

Negan said you would be able to come back, maybe not in those exact words, but he’d said it. And even though he wasn’t anywhere near the top of the list of people you trust most, you knew he wasn’t a liar. He didn’t say things he didn’t mean. He hadn’t harmed you. He didn’t kill Spencer or do anything to Rosita, even though you knew he saw you stop her from pulling that gun out. Even if it took some time, you'd get out of there eventually and you'd be okay.

Finally, Negan joined you in the vehicle, inserting the key into the ignition and revving the engine to life. You counted your breaths as he put the vehicle in drive and pulled away from Alexandria, not stopping until you were sure you were off the property. You had to keep hope. Besides, at least Daryl would be there at the Sanctuary to keep you company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! I kept Spencer alive because even though he's an asshole, I want to keep Negan's actual killing to a minimum. I mean, this is tagged as a fix-it. Now the story will progress past regurgitating the episodes and will follow the plot line I've laid out. 
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed this chapter! Please feel free to leave comments and kudos!! They motivate me to update more quickly :)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, again! I really hope you enjoyed this part of the story! 
> 
> Please feel free to leave any comments or kudos! I'll be updating as soon as I can. 
> 
> Also, if I messed anything up from the episode, besides the obvious things i changed to fit the storyline better, please let me know!!
> 
> Thanks ♡


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